An Unconventional Use of Aprons
by KiraKira-Kirimi
Summary: Poland comes home one day to find Lithuania wearing an apron, and he finds it unbearably sexy. Lemon. Deanon from Kink Meme.


As Poland entered the kitchen, the scent of boiling beets – warm and slightly sweet – washed over him. The gas stove was crackling merrily, reminding Poland of the open-fire roasts of long-past villages, and steam hung in the air as the pot bubbled and spat.

"Liet!" Poland called, for despite the liveliness of the kitchen, it seemed to be devoid of an actual chef. "Like, where are you?"

"Oh – Poland! You're home."

Poland turned. Behind him, Lithuania stepped into the kitchen, wiping his hands on his pants.

"Sorry. I went to the bathroom for a second."

Lithuania was wearing a simple apron of a soft lavender, delicately adorned with painted daisies across the hem and neck. Poland recognized it as his own; he'd originally bought it back in 1932, but as Poland had never used it, claiming it 'clashed with his outfits', Lithuania had decided not to let it go to waste.

This was the first time that Poland had actually seen Lithuania wear it – but now he was reverently thankful that he had let the apron go. The apron seemed to be _sewn_ for Lithuania's body; it tapered in with the slight tuck of his waist, accentuating his lithe, gentle figure, and the strings in the back caught at Lithuania's shirt, pulling up the fabric and exposing a teasing sliver of soft skin. Poland licked his lips, letting his gaze rake up and down Lithuania's body.

"Poland?" Lithuania asked cautiously. "Are you okay?"

"Hmm?" Poland seemed unwilling to meet Lithuania's gaze – it would mean wrenching his eyes from that enticing expanse of exposed skin.

"Ah, well . . . you must be tired. You're home late."

"Yeah, totally," Poland agreed, although his eyes were now firmly fixed on Lithuania's crotch.

Lithuania – bless his soul – didn't seem to notice. "Why don't you tell me about it – and are you hungry? I'm almost done with this borsht."

"Like, I could eat a horse!"

Lithuania rolled his eyes slightly as he walked over to the stove. Rolling up his sleeves – unwary of the way Poland's eyebrows arched in appreciation – he dipped a slotted spoon into the large soup pot, carefully picking out the boiled beets.

"Will you chop some cucumbers for me, Poland?"

"No," Poland replied. "I'm, like, busy."

Lithuania shot him a disbelieving glance. "Really."

Poland met his gaze unflinchingly. "Yeah, _seriously_ busy." _Staring at your ass_, he added to himself.

"Well, if I have to do it all myself, you'll have to wait a little longer for your dinner," Lithuania pointed out, cocking a hand on his hip – just over that sliver of bare flesh, unwittingly hitching up his shirt a little further.

Poland could not help his smirk. "Oh, I think I'll survive."

"Fine, then. So how was your day?"

Poland didn't even hear the words that came to him; he just rambled mindlessly, spouting off office gossip as if by instinct. But Lithuania did not seem to notice, which left Poland to let his eyes continue to roam over the form of Lithuania's backside.

If truth be told, Poland was probably the only one who would have found the apron as unbearably sexy as he did – and he knew as much. But there was just _something_ about the way Lithuania was oblivious to the way the apron conformed to his shape and saw it only as a way to keep his clothes clean, rather than as the _incredibly_ hot accessory he was turning it into; it was just so Liet. And to Poland, the more 'Liet' it was, the sexier.

Besides, it'd been an age since their last roll in the covers. Not that Poland was upset about that, per sé – after all, nights of chaste cuddling could make him feel just as giddy in love – but it had been a _long_ time, and Poland's body had needs.

Poland broke off mid-sentence and stood up from the table. "I-I'm, like, gonna go get something, okay?"

Lithuania glanced at him curiously. "I'll be done with the borsht in five seconds, Poland."

"Yeah, but, like, I'll be so fast that it will be like I teleported or something."

Lithuania shrugged, and Poland darted out of the kitchen.

By the time he returned, Lithuania was wrapping the last half-used cucumber in saran wrap. At the sound of Poland's approaching footsteps, he glanced up with a smile. "That _was_ fast," he said, pulling open the refrigerator. "I'm done now – why don't you grab a pair of bowls?" He dropped the cucumber in the fridge and closed the door.

But Poland just smirked, and rather than turning towards the cabinets, he strode over to Lithuania.

"Po-?" Lithuania began uncertainly, but before he could say anything else, Poland had sealed their lips together. At first Lithuania stiffened slightly in surprise and tried to draw away, but as Poland's arms came around his neck, he slowly began to return the kiss.

"Mmm, Liet," Poland sighed against his lips, taking Lithuania's hand and pressing it against his own hip. He pressed his body closer, and Lithuania let out a soft grunt as his back rubbed against the counter.

Poland parted his lips and flicked his tongue over Lithuania's mouth – and immediately, Lithuania pulled back, pushing firmly on Poland's shoulders. "P-Poland!" he gasped. "You want to do this _now_?"

"Mm-hmm. Like, why not?"

"I just finished the borsht, Poland – it will get cold!"

"So?" Poland leaned forwards and pressed a featherlike kiss to Lithuania's jaw. "You like your borsht cold, don't you?"

Poland's tongue brushed against Lithuania's skin, and Lithuania let out a hiss. "B-but you don't . . . ," he muttered.

Poland giggled against Lithuania's collarbone. "I think this is totally worth it."

"Well – but –,"

"God, Liet! Stop being a total prude!" Poland hissed, pulling back to glare – pout, actually – at Lithuania.

Lithuania grinned sheepishly. "Sorry." Haltingly, he wrapped his arms around Poland's waist and pulled back against his body. Poland smirked, arching an eyebrow impatiently, and then Lithuania was kissing him, softly but nonetheless passionately as he stole back the kisses Poland had taken from him.

This time, when Poland swept his tongue over Lithuania's lips, Lithuania let out a sigh and permitted him entrance. And he kissed back, his tongue rubbing firmly over Poland's and dragging from the depths of his throat the first moan, even as Poland pushed him back against the counter. Lazy, sensual, and increasingly passionate, the kiss seemed to last an age before the two finally parted, flushed and panting for breath.

For a long moment punctuated only by their heavy, slightly-ragged breaths, Poland and Lithuania just stared at each other, both grinning idiotically. Then Lithuania moved his hands up to Poland's shoulders, and he rotated the both of them so that Poland's back was resting against the counter.

Poland opened his mouth to protest, but then Lithuania's lips were upon his in a kiss more fiery than the last. And as Lithuania's tongue probed deeper into his throat, Poland decided it wasn't such a bad idea to let him take the initiative. Appreciatively, he let a low groan.

Lithuania's hands wandered down Poland's body, feeling the contours of his torso and memorizing the curve of his sides. They came to rest at his hips for a moment, and then Poland gasped slightly as he felt cold fingers brush against the skin of his abdomen.

"L-Liet," he hissed, his own fingers picking at Lithuania's shirt. "C'mon." He arched his head back, denying Lithuania access to his lips, but baring his neck to him instead. Obediently, Lithuania began to trail kisses in a column down Poland's neck, pausing here and there to lick or nibble at a particularly sensitive spot, each time drawing a slight shiver from Poland.

Poland was still fumbling with the hem of Lithuania's shirt, and Lithuania reached behind himself with one hand to undo the ties of his apron – but before he could do so, Poland's hand had grabbed his, stopping him.

"No," Poland said breathlessly, frowning at him through a half-lidded gaze. "Like, leave the apron on, Liet."

"But –,"

"Just do it." He tugged the hem of Lithuania's shirt up from under the ties of the apron and began to pull the shirt off.

It was an odd request, Lithuania decided, but he could see no reason not to humor Poland. At his insistent stare, Lithuania wove each arm back into the shirt and under, allowing Poland to pull the shirt over his head without removing the apron. Lithuania shivered as the cold air brushed against his bare back, and he instinctively pulled Poland closer to him.

He helped Poland remove his shirt as well, even as Poland's fingers scrambled to undo the front of Lithuania's pants. It was slightly awkward, with elbows knocking and limbs not bending quite right, but neither of them quite seemed to care. Eventually, the both of them were entirely unclothed – with the exception of Lithuania's apron – and the two pulled back slightly, eyes raking over one another's form.

But as Lithuania began to catch his breath, a slight flush painted over his cheeks, and his gaze met Poland's anxiously. "A-are you sure you want to do this?" he stammered. "_Now_?"

Poland growled at him, frustrated, and yanked Lithuania back against his body. "Like, _yes_, Liet. C'mon already." Without giving Lithuania a chance to respond, he attacked his lips in a fiery kiss and arched wantonly against Lithuania's thigh.

Lithuania groaned, feeling Poland's erection brush against the bare skin of his leg. He kissed back passionately, making Poland whine in appreciative need. Lithuania's hands began to move downwards, tracing the curves of Poland's figure, and the soft, gentle touch sent shivers up Poland's spine.

Lithuania's hands settled on Poland's waist, and then, without warning, he broke away.

"L-liet!" Poland mewled indignantly. "What are you – a-_ah_ . . . like, n-never mind . . ." Suddenly, he let out a heady sigh as a warm, moist heat enveloped his erection. The heat began to move slowly up and down the shaft, and Poland hissed, his hands curling into fists on the counter beside him. "M-mmm . . . God, Liet . . . d-don't stop . . ."

On his knees before Poland, Lithuania could not help but to grin as Poland bucked against his lips. And obediently, he continued to bob his head, gradually gaining speed and intensity. His tongue rubbed gently against the underside of Poland's member, and every so often, he would pull back to place a light kiss on the tip.

Poland groaned, his fingers found Lithuania's head, where they tangled themselves into his hair and pulled him closer. "L-liet, d-don't tease me . . ."

With a smile, Lithuania opened his mouth and took Poland in full. He sucked down hard, and Poland gasped, squirming desperately under Lithuania's hands and tongue. Lithuania hummed slightly, letting the vibrations race up Poland's body as he began to bob his head again, this time faster than before.

"G-godLiet! _Fuck_ yesyesyes!"

Lithuania pulled his lips back slightly to let his teeth grate ever so slightly against the skin of Poland's erection, and Poland hissed.

But before Lithuania could continue, Poland's fist clenched in his hair, and he dragged Lithuania back.

"Poland -?" Lithuania began.

Without opening his eyes, Poland hissed: "Like, cut to the chase already. Take me, Liet. _Fuck_ me." He thrust something into Lithuania's hands.

Lithuania flushed, his gaze dropping to the small tub of lubricant in his grasp. "Where -?" he started. "Wait, was _this_ what you left the kitchen for earlier?"

"_Yes_! That apron was just, like, too sexy to resist. Now, like, stop totally stalling and screw me and junk!"

"Y-you sure?"

Poland kicked him.

Grinning sheepishly, Lithuania pressed himself against Poland and kissed him softly. "Sorry," he murmured. "Ready?" And without waiting for a response, he pressed the first lubricated finger in.

Poland hissed and wrapped his arms tightly around Lithuania's neck, squirming slightly at the odd sensation. Lithuania gave him a moment, then crooked his finger gently against the ridged walls of muscle. Poland made a face but bucked his hips encouragingly.

The second finger stung a little at its entrance, but as Lithuania continued to work the lubricant in, the pain diminished, and Poland began to rock back and forth in earnest, whimpering slightly.

When Lithuania finally removed his fingers, Poland let out a heady, apprehensive moan.

"Liet . . ."

The tip of Lithuania's erection probed Poland's entrance, making him squirm.

"Ready?" Lithuania asked softly.

Poland nodded, then let out a hiss as Lithuania pushed himself in.

The apron was hitched up around Lithuania's thighs, and as Lithuania slowly entered Poland, he moved the folds higher up, only barely displaying the genitals below. Poland moaned – somehow, the sight was incredibly erotic – and Lithuania took this as an invitation to continue.

"_Nnngh_!" Poland gasped, wincing as Lithuania entered him fully. "L-liet!" But then Lithuania was moving, thrusting slowly but steadily, and Poland let out a heavy groan.

Lithuania's lips found his own, and Poland thrust his tongue in before Lithuania could – he moaned breathlessly, tongue probing as deeply as he could make it go. He began to roll his hips encouragingly and hissed as his erection brushed against the rough fabric of Lithuania's apron.

Lithuania began to thrust harder and faster into Poland, his hand coming in front to grasp Poland's neglected member and stroke it in time with his thrusts. Poland yelped, and his muscles clenched suddenly around Lithuania, whom only began to thrust even faster.

The sensations were building in Poland, coiling like a too-tight spring. He gasped, pressing down with each thrust and forcing Lithuania in deeper – deeper! – in desperate need to push that coil just a little bit further. He cracked one eye open, and through his slit of vision, he saw Lithuania pressing against him, hair slicked with the sweat of exertion – and the apron, disheveled and hanging off of Lithuania's body, showing just a peek of pink nipple above the wilted neckline. Poland screwed his eyes shut and bucked forwards twice more, crying out Lithuania's name as he came. And as he tightened, Lithuania let out a cry, feeling ecstasy wash over him as well.

For a long moment, the two hung there, breathless and giddy in the aftermath of their orgasms. The scent of sweat and sex hung in the air, mingling with the sweet smell of boiled beets, and it felt as if time had come to a standstill. But after a long moment, Poland disentangled himself from Lithuania's arms and placed a soft kiss upon his swollen lips.

"So, like, how about that cold borsht?"

With a slight grin, Lithuania stepped back and smoothed down the front of his cum-stained apron in a vain attempt to make himself look a little more presentable. "I suppose – you sure you don't mind that it's cold?"

Poland shrugged. "Like, this was totally worth letting food go cold."


End file.
